Labyrinth Runner
by Jamie Edge
Summary: Annabeth and Percy are lost in the Labyrinth, and a mortal boy by the name of Thomas appears, forcing Annabeth and Percy once again inot a world of mystery and unknown (driving Annabeth crazy). This story is also available on Wattpad. Username is not the same, book is the same. The cover isn't mine, I found it on deviantart.
1. Chapter 1 (Percy)

**Hi, I'm Jamie Edge**

**I read The Maze Runner and it was AMAZING. And I BEGGED my mom to get me Scorched Trials and Blood of Olympus, but she insisted that she would have to sell our house in order to afford all the books I need. *sigh* yet she STILL buys chocolate covered jelly tots. Ahg, moms.**

**But anyway, I couldn't think of Percy and Annabeth as 14 year olds. So I just chucked them in the Labyrinth all House of Ha des-ed.**

**I'm not Rick Riordan or James Dashner, blah, blah, blah**

**If you get annoyed with , this story is also on Wattpad. Same book name and I have a different username, which is solid-wisp.**

●**PERCY #1●**

My sweaty hand gripped Annabeth's hand as we stumbled through the Labyrinth. The walls crushed down in on my vision, their endless grey surface stretching upward, dwarfing us.

Light from above us stroked our gritty faces; it mocked us with its freedom.

How in Hercules is the sun even here? In the Labyrinth!? I guess it's just something the Labyrinth did for our benefit, so we can die of starvation and driven up the unclimbable walls with all types of crazy. But hey, nothing beats dying knowing your also getting sunburnt.

A hacking cough strangled Annabeth, her throat dry as sandpaper. I can totally relate. The air feels like its scraping out all my saliva and resting at the back of my throat, greedily enjoying my suffering.

My head rotates so I can look at Annabeth. She doesn't look much better than I do. Her blonde hair hung limp and greasy in a knotted ponytail, her face was pale and dark bags.

But her eyes continue to stare determinedly ahead. They flitted to my face, and I forced a weak smile, trying to not crack my dry lips.

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. Always. Through thick and thin. From Dionysus' drunken (although he isn't allowed to be drunk. But he acts like it anyway) moping to Tartarus.

I dragged in as big a breath as I dared and whispered, "We should probably rest. No point of continuing this if we're weak like this. And I feel like Mrs O Leary used me as a chew toy." I stared hopefully at her, wanting to rest because of my feet that felt like I did a tap dance on hot lava.

"That's probably the smartest thing you've ever said. Not that there's competition." She smirked. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her but, sadly, I was so dehydrated that my tongue wasn't slick enough, so I just glared at her, my face scrunching up in mock hurt.

But then again; it was a bloody good idea.

We staggered towards the wall of the corridor, were we slumped against the wall.

I groaned as the weight shifted mercifully from my aching calves to the wall, my legs creaking as I lowered myself to the ground.

Annabeth followed, and we were sitting right next to each other. Her head tilted as she rested her head against my shoulder, her chin propped up against it. Her droopy eyes blinked.

"Gods I love you." She mumbled as her chin started slipping off my shoulder as she fell into a deep sleep.

Gently I rearranged how she was sitting, wrapped my arms around her and buried her face in my collarbone.

"I love you too. No matter how much you insult my intelligence." I whispered as I too nodded off, my chin resting on her blonde head.

**So good or bad?**

**I like CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, no flames. Kapish? Great.**

**Must I continue? Or must I go back to begging my mom for books?**

**I swear the next will be more exciting.**

**Ta-ta,**

**Jamie Edge**

**Publish Date: 16 October 2014**


	2. Chapter 2 (Percy)

●**PERCY#2●**

A horrible grinding noise echoed through the maze. I could feel it as the ground vibrated.

Instinctively I tensed my muscles, accidently jerking Annabeth awake with the sudden movement.

She mumbled something as her fists tightened against my shirt. Still disorientated, she shifted and nuzzled her face into my chest. As if feeling the tension radiating off my body, she shook off her drowsiness, and she bolted up to her feet, ripping her dagger from her waist.

"Wha-" she started to say but quickly shut up, knowing from all too much experience that its safer not to speak in a potentially dangerous situation. So instead she gave me a look that repeated the mantra 'What the Hades is going on? Whatever's happening, we're going to have to stab something or someone at some point.'

I sprang to my feet and slipped my hand into my pocket, where the weight of Riptide sat ready and not-dangerous-right-now-but-ganna-kick-ass-later state.

The grinding started up again, this time closer. Annabeth and I stood back to back, both of us gripping our weapons, and our eyes hard and calculating.

The noise was definitely closer. It came from every direction, causing me to watch the walls nervously, wondering if finally the walls would LITERALLY start suffocate me. Hopefully not. Because that would suck.

And then it came.

From around the corner, rolled one of the most disgusting monsters I have ever seen.

It looked like a maniacal kid took old and dirty play dough, dropped it in rotten egg yolk and the stuck toothpicks and kebab sticks into it. Except that the kebab sticks were mechanical arms, ending in crude weapons (knives, spikes, claws. The usual.) The toothpicks were silver needles that slid out, making it look like a combination of a fluff ball and a porcupine. And the playdough was OOZING rotten egg yolk. Oh, and it was alive.

I need to find this kid, I thought, and put him in Dionysus' Mental Institution for Dolphins.

"Annabeth," I whispered. She slowly turned to look at the Cyborg Play-Dough Porcupine monster. Her eyes widened.

It started moving towards us, a deafening scream of machinery piercing our temples. I gripped my ears, my oh SO sensitive ears.

Annabeth recovered first, screaming bloody murder (that wasn't a metaphor or something English-y) as she flipped her dagger and flung it at the monster.

I, knowing it was a distraction, ran towards it, sword raised.

Its arms reached out towards Annabeth, but she hacked at the metal (Annabeth has starting carrying multiple daggers, because she realised that carry only one wasn't a good idea. So she got more. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner; for she is infamous for have backup plans. And the backup plan's backup plans. )

Need to stay focused.

I tried to shut out Annabeth's distraction (It isn't for me). With a double handed grip on my sword, I raised my arms and slammed Riptide down into bulbous flesh. The bronze sunk in with a nauseating squelch.

Yellow monster dust gushed out of the hole. Weirdly, even the dust was coated in sickly yellow slime. Gross (meaning both disgusting and in large amount.)

Then it moved.

As it jerked, it caused my sword to tug me downward. I slipped on the monster guts. And I landed. On the Cyborg Play-Dough PORCUPINE.

The needles slid into my exposed skin of my shoulders and chest. I gasped, craning my head as far away from the deadly looking points.

The monster stopped moving, and lay dead on the concrete. But it didn't disintegrate. One more unusual thing to add to my list.

"ANNABETH!" I cried, my throat tight. I felt the needles imbedded in my muscles, every twitch wedged them deeper. My blood leaked out of the holes.

"PERCY!" Annabeth gasped. I saw her at the corner of my eye as she rushed over to me. I felt her fingers wrapped around my shoulders.

"Okay, I'm going to ease you away from it, pulling the needles out of your skin. Okay? Okay." She placed the hilt of one of her dagger so I could bite into it so I didn't scream if this hurt. Didn't want to attract more of those things.

She stood crouched behind me, fingers placed on the unporcupined parts of my shoulder. "Here we go," and she stared pulling me towards her.

It wasn't very painful, but I did wince a bit. Since both of us didn't fancy laying in slime, she dragged me to the side of the corridor and placed my back against the wall.

She leaned down and inspected me. "Well, no serious blood loss. But there was some. Now it looks like your shirt has red pocca dots. Very fashionable," she said sarcastically. "I should take a look," she concluded seriously, reaching for the hem of my shirt. I bit my lip as I lifted off my shirt, giving her full view of the tiny pricks of blood.

She leaned closer, her face scrunched up with concentration. "The colour is weird," she mumbled.

"Yeah, I've been hearing the Aphrodite cabin planning a anti-orange shirt strike. Apparently its impossible to jeans that match. What a nightmare! Nail polish will be spilt. Mascara will be smudged. And nails, hearts and heels will be broken during the chaos. Dun, dun, DUUUN! I fully support the cause, mainly because I want it all on camera," I said, only half joking (about the fact the revolution is brewing.)

"Not your shirt, Seaweed Brain. Your BLOOD," she continued, "it has this green tinge. I don't need to be a Child of Apollo to know that isn't healthy."

Anxiety chilled my blood as I glanced down. The blood spotting my chest DID have green stuff in it.

Suddenly I felt lightheaded causing the world to spin. I was glad I was sitting, because if I had been standing, I would have toppled.

I heard the word _'Poison'_ came out of Annabeth's mouth before I passed out.

**Favourite, Follow, Review, etc. (even though there is nothing to etcetera)**

**Jamie Edge**


	3. Chapter 3 (Annabeth)

●|**ANNABETH #3|●**

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><p>"Percy?" I asked the now unconscious idiot.<p>

It was no use, but I had to try. "_PERCY_! THERE IS A _MINOTAUR_!_ BLUE_ COOKIES! HELP PERCY I'M BEING _EATEN! AAHH!_ SEAWEED BRAIN!" I shouted as loud as I dared, hoping to make him panic enough that he would wake up.

Necessary? Yes. Cruel? _ Maybe_.

His eyes rolled beneath closed lids. I wondered what he was thinking. Hopefully how much he needs to wake up and not die.

Sweat glistened above his black eyebrows, with his dark hair contrasting with the paleness of his face.

I gripped his solid shoulders and shook him causing his head to nod vigorously. His mouth barely opened when released a groan, his face twisted with annoyance.

_Thank Olympus!_

"Stay awake. I don't want you die in your sleep," I said as I softly pat/slapped his cheek.

Truthfully, I didn't know what to do (shut up). I didn't know what kind of poison it was (shut _up_). What kind of monster it was (_shut up_). I don't recognise it at all (I said: _Shut. Up!_).

But I can assume it's somehow related to Hephaestus, because, hello? _Mechanical_ arms.

But he didn't work with LIVING, BREATHING organisms? _DOES he?!_

I guiltily hoped so. _What?_ I like KNOWING things! So I' not completely in the dark! So I'm not blindly fighting some unknown enemy without my main advantage! _Knowledge._

And also it is a reasonable assumption to make.

Because here's the math:

_Hephaestus + Anything = possibly demigod killing robot. _

Percy pushed himself up with his elbows. I gave him a stern look before I made him to lie back down.

"How do you feel?" Maybe I would recognise the symptoms, and would know what kind of poison it was and how the hell to fix it. Because I didn't know (_ZZZ!_ Zip it!).

"Gah! I feel like I drank a litre of fiery-snot-marathon-river."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. _Typical_ Seaweed Brain.

"_Phlegethon,_ Percy. I know it sounds like a marathon for snot, but _please_. At least have the decency to correctly pronounce the name of the river that saved our lives."

I heard a muffled noise. The soft padding fell on my ears like cotton wool puffs.

"Phlemy-" I hissed a sharp '_shh_' and mushed my finger against his lips.

The sound slowly became more identifiable.

Footsteps.

"Percy. I will punch you _so hard _that _YOUR_ snot runs a marathon if you _dare_ be a hero and get in my way trying to protect me." I hissed at him. And I wasn't joking.

The sound of feet slamming against the cold floor.

Closer.

And closer.

I've always _hated_ this part. When your breath became a rattling howl. No matter how much practice, no matter how much experience you have the sheer echo of your breathing. You wonder if it's all in your head, if it's your nervous jitters exaggerating everything

I could hear the jiggling of a rucksack and even the sound of breathing.

I stood and faced the direction it come from, dagger in hand and legs far apart as I got into a fighting pose in front of Percy.

The person (_if_ it is a person) was just around the corner. I could practically hear fabric rubbing against fabric.

A person rounded the corner.

The boy was no older that I, maybe younger. His brown eyes widened and he nearly did a backflip as he skidded to a halt.

Not letting a moment of his confusion fade, I sprang towards him, dagger in hand.

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><p><strong>●| I did not expect this thing to get so many views! But these are fanpeople, I suppose. They relentlessly troll FanFiction for stories. |●<strong>

**●| I appreciate if your input, love and other things (But no flames! I like constructive criticism) |●**

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><p><strong>●| Jamie Edge |●<strong>


	4. Chapter 4 (Thomas)

•**| THOMAS #4 |•**

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><p>My feet thumped steadily on the ground. My breaths entered my lungs, filling my ribcage, encasing my pumping heart.<p>

Without breaking stride, I slashed at a vine, allowing it to fall in the middle of the floor. Breadcrumbs. Or maybe it was _VINE_ crumbs.

Not that I needed it. I always remembered where I came from and how I got there. With an exception of my _entire_ _life._ But better safe than sorry.

Despite all the Grievers that lurked within the Maze, I still revved in its mystery and unpredictability. Or predictability when I finally crack and map the Maze. And I would escape the Glade with all the others.

Chuck and I would find his mother, and I would uncover my past, and I would, above all, uncover the secrets of the 'Creators' and what WICKED means.

I rounded the corner, mind still roaming to the endless outcomes.

Then I saw _her_.

I stiffened my knees as I halted, kicking up dust.

There was girl with blonde hair standing protectively in front of a boy slumped against the wall. In her hand was a dagger the colour of bone with a guarded expression. The boy was pale with black hair, shuddering as he reached into his pocket for -

The girl came at me with almost invisible speed. Her left hand roughly snatched my collar and yanked me to the wall. The back of my skull wacked the hard wall, causing black dots to creep in on my vision.

I blinked the fuzziness away with thick lids.

She was pinning my to the wall, elbow digging into ribs, and dagger to my throat.

I froze, lilting my chin as far away from its edge as I could.

My eyes lower till I met the eyes of the girl in front of me. They bore into my skull, cold and grey. I thought of the concept of storm clouds, sweeping a across cities, flooding homes and roasting those unlucky enough to be out with deadly light. I wondered if that concept applied here. I wouldn't be surprised if she shot lightning out of her eyes. I couldn't be more shocked.

There was a _GIRL_ in the Maze.

A _SHANKING _GIRL!

"ποιος είσαι εσύ?" she growled. **(Who are you? in Greek)**

_What? What language is that? _

I stared at her blankly, trying to communicate with my face (because using my mouth would cause my Adams apple to bob, what with the knife still pressing against my throat) that I had _no idea_ what she just said.

Actually I don't know the klunk is going on.

What were the Creators cooking up? Bringing a girl into the maze along with that boy-

Breath was pummelled out of my mouth when she squished me into the wall.

_"Who _are you_?"_ Her voice was like her eyes._ "What _are you?"

"_Aaahh_. I'm Thomas, I'm a Runner," I gasped.

"Okay, _'Thomas'_," she whispered his name mockingly, "What is a runner? Because as _sure _as _hell _not letting you go until you answer all my questions."

"A runner is someone who runs around the maze, mapping it, trying to figure it out."

"That's stupid. Daedalus designed it to evolve and forever change. It's not _mappable_, idiot," her brow furrowed, gears churning.

"No. There _ARE_ patterns. I'm telling you. I've been to the map room, I've seen the signs."

Her eyes burned my face, expression sceptical.

"Why should I believe you?"

"You don't need to. You can go on your merry way and get eaten by Grievers. I don't care. You're just a shank girl with a knife."

She yanked me off the wall and smashed me against the wall, my head once again bouncing the back of my skull against the impossibly hard and sore grey stone. I wondered if they were even grey anymore. The pain at the back pf my skull suggested otherwise.

"That sounded like an _insult_..." she whispered threateningly. I felt the cool metal of her dagger slide against my clammy skin. The cool metal slid along smooth skin.

Tingling danced on my neck.

Was I in that much pain? That I'm numb? Is adrenalin shutting out the pain? Why did the knife not cut me? She was probably teasing me, trailing the knife along my neck. The odd moments when you find out that you are ticklish.

Her whole posture changed. Her face slackened her muscles loosening, but not completely.

"He's _mortal_," she mumbled. It sounded like she was addressing the boy that lay silently watching the blonde, his face scrunched with a combination of shock, fear, wariness and worry.

What with the girl not as threatening as she was, I took the opportunity to study him. Sweat beaded his face, tiny red dots littering his bare chest and his intense green eyes fixed on me, watching my every movement.

My eyes skittered away him and I saw the same grey corridor, one of the least green of them. A path of shimmering coating lead around the corridor.

Questions replaced each blood cell, there were so many, my legs trembling from the buzzing charge and my mind crowded with question until it rose to a deafening clamour.

"Annabeth... He's wearing your _super machine mind's thinking face_..." the boy noted to the girl, shifting slightly, as if getting ready to jump me if I decided to run.

_I couldn't do this anymore!_ "What's _th_at? Where does it go? How did it happen? Did you do this? Where did come from? Is it your version of Breadcrumbs? Why is it leading up to the shank boy? What is it made of? Is that why it smells like klunk in here? Is that the slime I smell? SLIME! Does that come from a Griever? Does it go to the shank boy because he was pricked? Has he starting Changing? Did the Creators-" a hand clamped against my mouth.

"Do you want to attract monsters?" She, Anne(?), as the shank boy called her, hissed.

"Monsters? What monsters? Oh... you mean Grievers. Don't worry, they come out at night," I mumbled

"Oh, please inform that jerk," her hand pointed in the direction the slime came from, "when you have the time, that it's following the wrong schedule," she spat.

"Wait… That's _Griever_ slime?! They don't leave snail trials in their wake," I insisted.

"That's true. But it didn't come down this one when we were attacked; it's down there, still dead. Rotting making this place smell like The Kindly Ones' perfume," she said nonchalantly.

Wait... _still DEAD?!_

"What do you mean by _dead_? As in _not_ living? What happened? How the hell does a shank girl like _you_ kill a Griever?" I wasn't trying to insult her, it was a honest to god question. A _Greenbean_ with a _knife_ and a limp and _weak boy_ beating a _Griever_? Impossible.

She took one step towards me, long legs covered the distance between us. Her hot breath scorched my face. Her nose was inches from my nose.

A guttural growl erupted from the throats from both Anne and the boy.

"What did you ju-" the boy started angrily but silenced when Anne flicked her wrist.

Like a viper, Anne's arms moved. Or I think they did. It just happened so fast. Where did she grab me? Did she _even_ touch me?

My cry was spluttered into a squawk. Anna above me, I felt the rubbery sole of her boot press into my throat. And the grains of dirt sandpapered my skin.

My hands clamped on her ankle, but she just leaned further in, causing my eyes to bulge. My airways were cut off, my cheeks bloated, my bloodless lips flapping. My temples was having a negative migraine, instead of burrowing into you head, it drilled outward. I was going to explode.

"That sounded like an insult… It seems you _can't_ give me information without an _extremely_ short-sighted remark. Now, I hope this will show you that sometimes, you need to ensure your survival. So far it seems you're going to die soon. But the question is, how you are going to die beneath my shoe, your body devoured by monsters and your body never to be found. Or are you going to answer my questions. So _less_ questions,_ more_ answers. Got it?"

I felt the boot crushing my windpipe. I was becoming increasingly lightheaded. My mouth gaped, trying to get oxygen into my lungs. And everywhere else.

I made a noise that sounded like a dying cat, trying to communicate that I understood.

"_What was that?_ I didn't catch that," she said maliciously.

My brains pressed against the walls of my skull. My clammy face was red as a tomato. My legs frialled and my grip on her leg were slackening.

"Annabeth. Stop," I couldn't - look - anything - I knew -was - the boy. What - he _going? _My brain - couldn't - form - coherent thoughts.

"Annabeth. The guy can't breathe, so he can't reply. You know it, I know it, and we both know it. Anyway, I think we just taught him something he would never get in a classroom. He's fully prepped for the exam. Let him go," he continued.

Please - please - please - cherries - _and_ chocolate...

The crushing weight of her boot lifted. I sucked in a breath, and it came back spluttering, squeezing through my bruised throat.

A blurred shape hovered above me, a blob of black framing it. Coarse fingers touched my throat gently, tilting my head back allowing my airways to open up.

Breathe in.

Splutter.

Breathe out.

Wheeze.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

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><p>•<strong>|•|•|•|•|•|•|•<strong>

•| **I Know, I know I know… Annabeth was very OOC, but hey! She was bad ass while doing it, right? |•**

**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	5. Chapter 5 (Annabeth)

●**| ANNABETH #5 |●**

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><p>Although I enjoyed Thomas' suffering for calling me a <em>'shucking girl'<em>, although I didn't know what that meant, it sounded rude.

I didn't ask him what it meant because that would show how completely out of my element I was here. And I had a suspicion that 'shuck' means something like 'stupid', 'weak' or worse... _'Blonde'_.

_Uhg,_ I hated that! I wish my hair was just brown or something! Why couldn't my mom just have magicked herself into a brunette when she mentally do-dahed with my dad. Then those genes would get passed down to _me_. And I would be _forever_ a brunette.

_Eew_. I did _NOT_ just think that.

Moving on.

But I couldn't do him anymore harm because a dead body will only give us more dead bodies, less answers.

And also we have a strategy. Naturally.

It was the most _cliché, over-used_ ploy ever. Good Cop/Bad Cop. I was, of course, the Bad Cop. I ensured that when I nearly killed him. That kind of is a gap in a friendship can never be easily crossed, no matter how perfectly designed the bridge is. Even if they say that they forgive you, you're still guilty and they still fear for the health of their neck.

And Percy was obviously the Good Cop. I imagined Percy as a cop. He would probably drive around the neighbourhood with the siren blaring, munching on a blue donut and yelling 'we-wo!' in time with the siren.

Percy knelt before Thomas, a frown formed between his brows. The younger boy lay gasping irregularly.

I can't believe there's a MORTAL in the maze.

A CLAY-GIVEN _MORTAL_! **(Prometheus created mortals out of clay... So yeah)**

But I felt guilt as it gnawed on my innards. I just attacked a _mortal_. _Never_, in all my years, did I think I'd ever resort to physically and purposefully causing harm to a human.

But it was planned. I had to make sure that he was human. The added benefit was that he now would fear me and be more inclined towards Percy. That was how it usually was. Percy was someone you could easily be friends with. Whereas I was scary, you need to get to know me to truly fear or love me. I wondered if that was why Percy took so long to kiss me. But he didn't actually make the first move. Dense buffoon. In the most enduring way, of course.

Thomas was now in a sitting position, propped up by Percy. _He shouldn't be doing that_. Sweat beaded his pale forhead and he was turning white. To _Tartarus_ to the plan! He looked like the living dead (we both knew what that looked like).

"Percy lay down, before you fall over," I suggested. I rushed to his side. I slung his heavy arm around my shoulder and half carried him back to his previous spot.

When Percy was seated back at his spot against the wall. I walked back to Thomas.

His neck was still swollen, but he seemed okay. He looked at me with hazel eyes filled with resentment.

I don't blame him. I would hate me too.

"What's _wrong_ with you?!" He rasped harshly. "What was the point of that? Oh, I get it... you're pretending to be the bad cop and he's pretending to be the good cop. _Sooo_ creative and original," he sais sarcastically, but his eyes filled with understanding, face softening.

_Well, there goes the game_. I chastised myself. How could I be so short-sighted? That's the oldest trick in the book! How did I think that he wouldn't notice?

Dehydration and Percy were really making me go crazy.

By threatening him, I did have an advantage: now he knew I wouldn't hesitate to hurt him if he tried anything. But let's do the 'it-was-a-lame-idea-dude! Let's-be-friends!'

I turned my head, and looked ashamed, "Yeah, it was a stupid idea. But we needed answers, and we approached you with most unthought-out strategy _ever_. Sorry about your throat. I guess I took the Bad Cop idea far too seriously. But don't think that I won't still hurt you if you have a hidden agenda against us," my voice came out embarrassed. There. Now I was less threatening and more approachable.

"Yeah, you play your part as the Bad Cop very literally. As I said before, I'm Thomas and you are... Anne, right?"

"My name is _Annabeth_, not Anne,"_ if you call me that again; I'm going to repeat past mistakes_.

"So what are you doing in the Maze?" his face was curious, not at all threatening. Hopefully.

"We... got lost. We fell in this hole," _Lie_. We were chased by monsters and hid in the first opening we could find. "And we have been lost in here ever since."

"Ever since...?"

"We fell in to the hole," I replied vaguely.

His brow furrowed, "How many hours ago did you fall in?"

"Way more than hours. More like days, maybe a week," I clarified. It was clear he didn't expect us to survive that long.

"A _week_?! How is that even possible? The longest ever is one DAY! How did you do it for days, why couldn't I do it for more than a_ day_, a _night_ even?!"

I was becoming increasingly annoyed with this boy. He came here acting so superior and went on to subtly suggest he's better and smarter than us. I hated assholes like this. Going around with their chests puffed out and because their large brains have been vacated long time ago. Not that they knew that. But maybe he was one of the ones who were just confident about their abilities, but I doubted it. This guy had this aura of arrogance, but also of curiosity. A strange combination, but not entirely unique. I would know, I'd seen enough of it at camp.

"It wasn't easy, but we did it," I said.

"And you are obviously a fighting type. Even though you have no memories," What? What is he talking about?

"We have memories. I remember my home, my first kiss, and who the President of the America in 1809 **(I don't know. I don't live in the USA, so I don't learn about their deeper history. So I don't even know if there was a president then. I'm clueless)**. Have you lost your memories? Percy once lost his memory, but he got it back after he drank... something," I decided not to tell him about the Gorgons' blood because that would raise suspicion, and although he was in the Labyrinth he seemed oblivious to the fact he was in LABYRINTH. The unmappable, unforgiving, rats (demigods) tormentor.

"How could the Creators allow someone with memories here? Maybe it is a clue. You're the source. Can you give me a detailed description of how you got here?" He didn't make it sound like a question. He wanted answers; he would have to earn the answers.

"What's in it for me? Giving you answers puts you in the position of power, and pits me in a position where I know nothing about you and you know everything about me. Hardly seems fair," I cross my arms stubbornly.

His face drops with exasperation, "Fine, what do you want to know?" He shakily folded his arms trying to mimic my determined air.

I thought silently, categorised all my questions into _petty_, _can-wait_ and_ important_. The whine of Percy's breathing raked against my back, "Well, what was that weird monster Percy killed? What was the kind of poison does its spikes contain? Is there a cure?" I watch Thomas as he shifts sideways, sneaking a peek at my boyfriend.

He continued to stare at Percy with wide eyes filled with awe. "He _killed_ a Griever? Klunk, that's amazing! That's why he's weak. He was stung. Griever poison is deadly if not treated with Grief Serum, but that ain't great either. If not treated, the person dies, but if they get the Serum, they go through this extreme pain as they remember. It is bloody awful; you can hear the screams throughout the Glade. But, despite the pain, people have gotten stung on purpose to remember"

Panic was hacking at my nerves, my muscles grated against each other and my teeth grounded together. My heart wanted to attack every word he was saying, but it was blocked by the tightness of my throat. Deadly. Pain. Dies. Percy. As if he hadn't gone through enough of that.

"Do you have"- _crack_ -"any of the Grief Serum?" I asked desperately.

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><p><strong>•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•<strong>

**•| Okay, I hate this chapter. I hate this chapter so much I want to rewrite it, but it's a filler. I put it in because my Beta (she isn't a FanFiction Beta. She rouge and totally gangster *does some lame gangster sign that gangster probably wouldn't do*) and I thought we needed to, I dunno,**_** justify**_** the aggression that Annabeth brought across for the last chappie, because I had _far _too much fun in the last chapter. Also I wrote this on-off, so the piece isn't that great. I'm sozzy! |•**

**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	6. Chapter 6 (Thomas)

●**| THOMAS #6 |●**

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><p>As I placed my bag on my lap, Annabeth dropped into a crouch, her hand hovered over one of her weapons. This one was bone white, or rather white bone. I shuddered as I imagined the creature it was made of.<p>

I slowly clicked the straps open and pulled away the flap, revealing the shadowed insides of the bag. I reached into it slowly. She tracked my hand with her predatory eyes and tightened her grip on her dagger.

I understood why. I could pull out a gun and shoot her through the head. Not that I would or even could. I would probably end up losing one of my fingers.

I fumbled through its contents without looking, because I kept my eyes fixed on her or she would think I was hiding any ambush intentions through avoiding eye-contact. You can't sneak up on someone if you're looking straight at 'em. And they're staring right back at you like you're the next meal.

I felt the scaly plastic of the case. I retrieved it at a snail's pace and displayed it with both hands held with the palms facing out.

"This is it," I nudged it towards her. "I swear on my mother's grave..." The phrase came out so naturally that I forgot I didn't have a mother to swear on. "Never mind, I don't remember my mother, or if she even has a grave,"

"Swear on the river of Styx. If you break the oath, you die. It's tradition. So, swear that you are telling me the truth. Repeat after me... _'I, Thomas...'_ what's your surname?"

"I, Thomas Edison ..." I whispered hesitantly **(I remember that he was named after Thomas Edison, but I can't remember if he took the surname too)**

She raised her eyebrows sceptically but she didn't comment. "... Swear on the River of Styx that I am telling Annabeth Chase and Perseus Jackson the truth about my name; that in this box contains the most efficient cure for the poison currently inside Perseus Jackson. I have told them the entire truth and am not deceiving them and am not leading them into a trap," she concluded.

I repeated after her solemnly. Despite the artificial sky, lightning flashed above, tossing the shadows around.

_Klunk_, that _Styx_ stuff is serious.

She waited for the sky to smite me down, but when it didn't, she grabbed the box and spun to the boy, Perseus. Weird name. But I couldn't criticise. But I wondered who they were named after. Perseus wasn't a scientist, he was a... god? I didn't know, but he was a hero or something. Whereas Annabeth _CHASE_, that was a scientist's surname, I couldn't recall what she/he did though.** (I researched this; it is a scientist's surname. I can't remember what they did, but ya. It's true.)**

Annabeth popped open the case to reveal the green liquid in the syringe.

_No, no, no! _She couldn't do it NOW!

"Stop! You can't do that _now!_ He'll start screaming and bring a whole damn horde of Grievers on our tail. We can't drag him all the way with the Grievers chasing us. And also he'll be long-gone-Crank **(Even though that hadn't happened yet, I simply couldn't resist)** and he won't be easy to carry. We first have to get him to the Glade so the Med-Jacks can fix him and we all are safe behind the Wall," I babble.

"But didn't you say that he could die if he doesn't get the serum? And, now that you swore on the River of Styx, I can trust that you're not trying to deceive me, but how am I supposed to readily trust these 'Med-Jacks' with Percy? _Mmm?"_ She raised both of her eyebrows.

"Well... It's safer than Grievers. If you leave him defenceless, delirious and screaming, and even though they only come out at night, they can't ignore him screaming bloody murder. Literally, when you take the serum, you get delirious and go a little insane as it works through your system. You can try to kill people, I would know, I was almost one of those people. And when you are like that, confused, the Grievers would come and try to eat you. There would be too many of them for you to defend yourself and Percy. Then you'll either end up both dying from Griever toxin and/or dead. So you might as well go to the Glade. There's food, medicine, not-really-friendly-but-not-trying-to-kill-you kind of people. And shelter. So it's better than this place," I reasoned persistently.

Her face pinched as she lifted Percy over her shoulder. The only indication that she was feeling his weight was her pink face and the fact she said _"It's a miracle with all the blue junk he eats that he doesn't weigh five hundred Hannibals."_

I marvelled at her upper muscle strength as I bent over to get my bag. That guy was at least 15kg heavier than her, despite it being clear that he was empty of food.

The new angle made the slime shiver on the ground. _Griever_ slime. I tried to imagine them defeating a Griever. I had no trouble imagining Annabeth ducking and diving and savagely stabbing the creature with the grace and pace of a panther. Whereas, I couldn't imagine the boy doing it. His body lay on the ground as if it had forgotten how to move, but that was the Grief's effect.

Curiosity itched at every part of my body and I found my feet drawing me towards the corner that now seemed to be the main part of the chamber rather just a part of it. The Maze was built around this corner. That's how significant and mysterious this corner was.

The smell of raw sewage stabbed in my nostrils. I gagged as it collected at the back of my throat. The slime trail became more prominent as it thickened. I kept one eye on my feet as I neared the glistening edge.

I stopped with my feet parallel to the wall. With one small movement of my head, then I would see it. I could smell it, the klunk. I wrinkled my nose as I slowly rotated my head.

In the middle of the corridor lay a pile of rotting and swollen flesh. It laid on a platform of dark green barf. Its skin had a thousand of shining eyes, its cold slime coating its grey skin. A torn hole puckered like a hideous sleeping princess waiting for the kiss of her prince. But all she got was a sword. The smell was putrid. It was like my nasal passages had been coated with sewage and my throat became the garbage shoot. My insides tried to expel the garbage by pushing itself out of my mouth.

My hand flew up to mouth in a futile attempt to prevent the inevitable puke that spewed out of my mouth.

I was hunched on the ground my face hovering over the remains of my stomach's contents.

A hand came to rest on my shuddering shoulder. I shakily raised my head and saw Annabeth crouched before me, easing me away from the pool.

My head lolled groggily backward as she hefted me up and away from the Dead Griever. I felt like this incident, this dead Griever, should be given a special label, a proper title to mark this audacious event because I doubted that there would be another killing of a Griever. But with the help of Annabeth and Percy... Hopefully there would be more.

She placed me on the oh-so-mighty corner. Her face portrayed genuine worry and relief. "I can see that you aren't used to that," she whispered, consoling me. "That was a pretty bad one. Not exactly the finest Aphrodite spawn," _Aphrodite?_ Wasn't that the Greek god of something?

"That happens often where you come from?" it was more a statement than a question. I assumed by her calm demeanour that this happened regularly.

"Not really... the corpses usually disintegrate, so we don't see a lot of them. But we know well enough what they look like," she said darkly. I wanted_ sooo_ badly to question her, but I didn't. I liked living.

I nodded silently as she helped me up. I was surprised that such a scary person was nice to me now. Maybe it's the fact she related to me, now that she saw my vulnerability. Or maybe because it was so apparent that I was inexperienced and not much a threat, but rather, potentially an ally.

An _ally_. Yeah, I liked that word.

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><p><strong>•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•<strong>

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•**| Jamie Edge |•**


	7. Chapter 7 (Percy)

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| PERCY #7 |●**

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><p>I could really use some god-chow right now. No, I do not mean I need a god to chow on (although Hera would be great. Not the eating part. The part where she dies. I don't <em>hate<em> her to a point _I'd dye her blue and eat her with a fork_. _Puh_-lease. I wouldn't use a fork)

But really, I need some Ambrosia right now.

My bones were filled with something heavy (I don't think it's a fridge. I'm not _that_ fat). My muscles felt they were eager to meet the floor, so they felt like were sliding off my bones and having a good ol' tea party as I died a slow death.

Woop-woop! Yay me! Let's get this party started!

But it feels like my party is ending.

I lay on the floor, not feeling. The only thing I could feel was my face and that feels like it has been used as a pincushion by the Fates. But that could be it, the Fates are done with me and they're throwing out like last week's toy.

So this is how I die. I expected, like many, I would die on a battlefield or sacrificing myself to save one of my friends. I didn't expect myself to die because I slipped and fell of a monster that happened to be pointy and poison.

I would be the laughing stock of the centuries. The _Great Percy Jackson_ was killed by a slug porcupine that didn't even deliver the killing blow.

Talk about an embarrassing death. I would _never_ hear the end of it in the underworld.

And, of course, the centre stage of my mind is Annabeth. Her golden curls standing up at every possible angle, her grey eyes teasing and fierce. The days she would completely ignore me because her nose was superglued (Hephaestus should consider getting some of that stuff, pretty strong and glue-y) into a book. The times she didn't ignore me, like when we plotted a payback prank of the Stoll brothers.

What would become of her when I die? Would she drag my corpse back to camp? If she survived...

My numb body felt the twisting of my innards. I couldn't think about that.

I thought about my mom and Paul. My mom would get bad. Like really bad. There would be a planet of tissues, broken frames with family photos slipping free, my smiling eyes peeking out. Paul would be a mess too, but not a Minotaur in a china shop like my mom.

My head fell back as I was picked up. My eyes took in the new scenery (Not new. More of the same corridor, just upside down.) As my head lolled (I LOL this... Gods I'm SUCH a nerd) back, exposing my neck as, who I assumed was Annabeth, picked me up bridal style. Oh, the irony.

My arms swayed as each jerking step rattled my lame body. Each of them jarred my vision. I caught glimpses of Thomas ahead of us, leading us through the Maze

The world slid by as Annabeth ran after Thomas.

"Stay with me Seaweed Brain," I hear Annabeth say as I slipped into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

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><p><strong>•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•<strong>

_•_**_|585 words! _This is the shortest chapter I HAVE EVER DONE! *scandalised expression* Sorry! |•**

**•| FOLLOW, FAVOURITE AND REVIEW! |•**

**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	8. Chapter 8 (Annabeth)

●**| No, the last chapter WAS NOT the shortest chapter I have ever wrote. Nope this takes the prize and the biscuit. I should have made it one chapter. Ahg, but what's done is done, so I couldn't change it if I could. It would mess up the order, because on Wattpad these are two different chapters, and I'm copying and pasting. So I'll just post TWO short chapters|●**

●**| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

●**| ANNABETH #8 |●**

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My pace fell in sync with Thomas'. The weight of Percy in my arms didn't weigh down my legs that much, but it weighed down my heart so low that it left a bloody trail of heartbreak.

I latched my eyes on the backpack bouncing against Thomas' back as he ran confidently through the maze like he was following a painted path. Absurdly, I started singing 'Follow the Yellow Brick Road'

Way to make me feel like I'm being deceived. Here goes Dorothy/Annabeth with her loyal best friend Toto/Percy chasing false claims of The Great and Wonderful Wizard of Oz... The cure.

Hopefully we will get back to Kansas.

Percy groaned as his green eyes closed. His body slacked even further, making my heart so heavy that it dug a gorge into the concrete.

The stale air whooshed tastelessly into my mouth, my feet thudded along with Thomas', like a tension- filled drumroll.

Thomas hurried around the corner muttering about how 'The walls are going to close soon' and I obediently followed.

After a few minutes of running, Percy was still in La-La Land, Thomas was still in the Maze Land, and I was in my own private world of worry and wariness called Reality.

Thomas started to increase his pace as the corridors became brighter, the smell of freshly cut grass and trees replaced the oppressive air, and the ungodly (we all know how loud gods can be) silence was filled with shouts of tired commands.

The fresh air relaxed me a little, but every passing step increased my suspicion. What if this was actually a trap? What if a whole horde of monsters were sunbathing, waiting for us so their holiday could be complete with a demigod to go with their lemonade and picnic?

But we had to take the risk; we were slowly dying anyway from dehydration, starvation and an unknown poison. YOLO, okay?

For us anyways, unless you were a freak who came out of the Doors of Death, but the statement still stands.

"We're almost there!" Thomas hollered as we rounded the last corner.

•**|•|•|•|•|•|•|•**

•**| I know it's short. Just handle it okay?** **|•**

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•**| Jamie Edge |•**


	9. Chapter 9 (Annabeth)

●**| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| ANNABETH #9 |●**

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><p>After being surrounded so long by colour leached walls, the scene assaulted my eyes like a rainbow coloured dragon spitting a volley of jelly beans at me. The colours were just too much.<p>

I instinctively shut my eyes, a green afterglow lurking at the edges of my vision.

Still blinking, I slowly got accustomed with the explosion of colours.

And I realised that the place wasn't an Iris-bombed unicorn land, but the absence of colour that I had lived with in the maze just amplified my senses.

Before me stood a giant, ragged tear in the wall. Beyond the concrete, the maze floor gave way to rich soil and emerald grass patched with grass deadened by trampling feet. Although it was still enclosed with the maddeningly colourless walls, it looked like a farm, with a clump of pine trees in the corner, a few cows grazing lazily at browning grass and boys crouched over rows of crops.

It actually reminded me a bit of Camp, what with the rows of crops, the fresh air and mysterious woods. But that was just about it. The atmosphere here was more serious, filled with orders rather than laughter.

"Come, we need to get Percy to the Med-Jacks before he's too far gone and before people reacting to you. That's going to delay the process. People here ain't used to seeing girls like you. Actually, they aren't used to seeing girls at all," Thomas said, nudging me quickly behind a rock. "We should skitter around the edge. Nobody likes inspecting the walls, reminds them how much they're trapped in this klunking place," he muttered under his breath.

I tried to process the information he just told him. Was this a group of mortals who were banished into the maze and ended up building some kind of civilised community? Why would they put mortals in here? Maybe, just maybe, were they ghosts? Celestial bronze doesn't wound ghosts, so that could be the reason the knife didn't hurt him. That was a theory, but I touched him, so that would throw that idea out (but there were always exceptions).

I turned my head to glance at Thomas. His hands were gripping the wall and the barricade of rocks we hid behind. His hazel eyes stared at her expectantly.

I shifted Percy's body so his nose poked my neck.

I peeked over his bulk as I placed my feet carefully, trying not to fall over and make a noise.

**•|•|•|•|•**

The trek was surprisingly short.

We reached the pine forest by the time the sun at reached its peak. I wondered if Apollo was cruising in his flaming ice cream truck. I doubted it. The Labyrinth was underground, so this was just a ploy to give you a fake sense of freedom. Oh, the Labyrinth and its gifts! So friendly!

The pine forest surrounded a shabby graveyard. Stone slabs were stabbed into the ground, names scratched out with pocketknife, along with the deceased's last words of their last breath. I noticed how none of the of the tombstones had a date of birth. It occurred to me that the boys didn't know when they were born. Thomas did mention that it was weird that someone who had memories was allowed into the Maze.

I hurriedly followed Thomas, giving the graves a wide berth. We walked through the large gap in the picket fence and into the forest.

Ten metres away, I saw mottled light of the pseudo sun dapple through the thick trees. We trudged further until we freed ourselves of the rotting smell of dead leaves.

We headed to an ugly block of cement that only idiots would call a building. Weeds grew around it, its grass dying from flattening feet.

"This is the hospital," Thomas announced as he strode forward, and halted to give her a pointed look. "Stay outside so I can talk to the Clint; warn him before you make his eyes bulge out of his head. But his eyes won't bulge because you're going to strangle him, right?" he said the last line uneasily.

"Okay. So, no strangling. Got it," I confirmed.

He nodded, and swung open the door. The smell of disinfectant and plastic drifted out, the all too familiar smell stinging my nostrils.

He took a step inside and disappeared, the door swaying in the impossible breeze.

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><p><strong>•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•<strong>

**•|Because this is also short (Sorry, once again) so I'm going to, once again, double update. |•**

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**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	10. Chapter 10 (Thomas)

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| THOMAS #10|●**

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><p>The room was much colder than outside, so cold that the feeling of death and ice crept down my spine. The room was sterile and lifeless, white sheets stretched indifferently on thin mattresses and misshapen pillows propped up against the grey wall.<p>

I always hated hospitals, although I didn't remember what hospital I had been to or why I had been there. But the stench of misery and dread of the maze's medical facility brought up flickering flashes of maddeningly vivid images.

I cleared my throat uneasily. "Anyone here?" I called, my voice high (Why was it that high? My voice broke ages ago. Not that I remember it specifically, thank God) and clear.

A clatter jumped unexpectedly from behind a baby blue curtain.

"_Ow!_ Klunk! Clint? Is that you? You shank, you made me drop all the citrus fruit! Now I'm going to have to clean that up! _Uuuhhhgg!"_ A shout came out from behind the curtain.

The shadows dotted the curtain as a hand ripped the curtain aside and a dark head popped out.

Jeff was a rather ugly fellow, his brown face dominated with a nose that looked; shined and smelled like a lemon (Literally, he had both a lemon shaped nose and was at that moment holding a lemon to his nose).

His eyes went wide with embarrassment as he stuttered "Oh, Thomas. I thought you were Clint."

Although Clint was the Keeper of the Med-Jacks, I was relieved it was Jeff. Because if I entrusted this momentary secret with Clint, it could cause some mistrust between the Keepers. Keepers are supposed to have no secrets between other Keepers.

"No, it's fine. Actually, it's not fine. You see there are two people outside who require medical assistance..."

He quickly set the lemon down. "Then why didn't you start with that! No time for chit-chat then!" Jeff started to march towards the door. I stretched my arm out to stop his way.

"Well... these people, they're... different, " I began, wanting to say this slowly and not just blurt out the fact they were Greenbeans who didn't come out of the Box. And that one of them happened to be a girl. Jeff stared at me impatiently.

"Then they need special treatment? Okay, let me first see them," Jeff pushed my arm away and quickly burst into the sunlight.

No more than a second later, Jeff was doing some form of an Irish jig backwards as he toppled backwards. He, in general, looked like a fish. His nostrils flared, his eyes were bigger than his nose (If that was possible) and spasmed like a fish out of water.

"W-w-wa-_Shuck it_! What the _klunk_ was that?" I opened my mouth to reply stupidly _'A girl carrying her boyfriend'_, but I was cut off. "I know it's a girl, Thomas! Why the shuck is she here?! How did the Box not -"

I, as quick as I could, despite his thrashing, clamped my hand over his mouth. After a few minutes, Jeff stopped his flopping and his nostrils calmed. "Slim yourself nice and calm, okay, Jeff? These are some shanks I found in the Maze. I don't know who they are exactly, but I do know that they need our help. We don't want you to be screaming about this. They need you to heal the dude over there before the craziness about this erupts all over the Glade," I said slowly, staring meanfully at him until I lifted my hand off his face.

Jeff got up cautiously, and took an uneasy step towards them, eyes fixed on Annabeth whose expression was guarded and hopeful. She inclined her head from Percy towards the med centre and one of the unoccupied cots she spied through the open door.

Jeff started, remembering that there was a sick person who needed help. He guided Annabeth up and through the door and placed Percy on the bed furthest from the door.

Annabeth and Jeff then shared a quick, hushed conversation that came to an abrupt end as Jeff rushed behind the curtain to fetch the Grief Serum.

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><p><strong>•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•<strong>

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**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	11. Chapter 11 (Annabeth)

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| ANNABETH #11|●**

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><p>As Big-Nose Wonder disappeared around the corner, I thought about the dark infirmary back at camp. I remembered the amount of times I watched Will go around the curtain and come rushing back with a wounded demigod. So many in a day, I wondered if it was the curtain that inflicted the injuries. The curtain shutting, signalling the end of the show, of a life.<p>

I sat on the thin mattress. The amount of time I used to sit on the Camp's sick bay bed, waiting, with my butt getting sore, realising and regretting how bony my butt was. I wondered if people who became anorexic regretted not having the fat to sit comfortably. I certainly would. But usually, after the fighting, the wars, the running (retreating), I'd come to appreciate my sitting time. It gave me time to reflect.

Curses spat from behind the Curtain, and Big-Nose Wonder came jogging out, holding a ridiculously large syringe. What would you use that syringe for anyway? It seemed to be able to hold double the amount of blood I had! Okay... that was an exaggeration... But clearly it would be useful if I found myself dying of blood loss.

He tilted Percy's chin, which exposed a long sweaty neck. Big-Nose-Wonder started preparing the patch of skin the needle was going to enter.

My knuckles blended in with the white of the sheets as I dug my fingers into the bed, holding myself down, trying not to leap at Big Nose,fearing that he was doing something awful to Percy.

I almost shot through the roof when a hand landed heavily on my shoulder. I swivelled my head to see Thomas.

He cautiously lowered himself onto the space next to me. "I must warn you before he presses the plunger... When the serum is introduced into his system, it isn't going to be a get-and-go-on thing. It's going to change him, and it's going to hurt. A lot," he whispered to me gravely.

I felt like strangling him, but I remained as stoic as I could. "I know. You already told me. He's going to scream," I winced, "And he's not going to be himself until he recovers." I forced the words out, but I was talking more to myself than to him.

A silence settled momentarily in their air, and Big Nose emptied the syringe into Percy's neck.

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><p><strong>• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •<strong>

**•|Yes, yes, yes… I was up country to visit my dad… For 10 days… And I give you a short chapter… So I am going to post… get this: a TRIPLE update (:O|•**

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**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	12. Chapter 12 (Percy)

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| PERCY #12|●**

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><p>In the darkness, the air had a physical presence. I noticed how much resistance it put up when I tried to move. I can almost think its Zeus' way of getting back at me for 'stealing' his glorified Taser.<p>

My blood slugged through my body, and my eyes were glued shut.

Cold hands brushed my neck making me shiver. What was going on? Who is this? Where is Annabeth?

Panic seized me. What if a monster attacked her while I was unconscious? What if the hands around my neck are Thomas'? Was he getting his revenge? Quite fitting actually, due to the fact Annabeth painted his neck purple.

I concentrated on my muscles, to make them move, to make them act.

My bones quivered as a cold prick entered my neck.

I could feel its icy liquid seeping through my veins, straining through my capillaries.

I only became aware I was moving when my arm lashed out as if possessed. My body shuddered so much that my skin hardly touched the mattress (a mattress? I realized with confusion. How the hell did I get into a 5 star hotel?).

My limbs thrashed and twisted as my blood was replaced with gasoline, and my heart was an inferno, setting my muscles on fire. I vaguely wondered if this was how Leo felt every time he 'flamed on' -ed.

My eyelids rubbed harshly against my green eyes as I blinked rapidly. The light was far too bright and it scraped my irises. I squeezed my eyes closed.

The darkness behind my eyes was replaced by images of battles, monsters and death. Where have the happy memories gone? I wondered darkly.

I saw remnants of my mother floating in the air like fireflies when she was captured by the Minotaur. I saw Zoe drenching the grass with her blood as she died. I flinched from the explosion of the machine that contained and consumed Bianca. I saw Luke's weary acceptance as he committed his noble suicide/murder/sacrifice. I saw the face of Gaia towering over the ruins of Camp Half Blood. I saw the terrible look of faith on Bob's face before he was gone forever.

I felt hot tears streaking my face as I vividly relived in the space of minutes all of the many tragedies and losses I had experienced since my arrival at Camp Half-Blood so many years ago. And I screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

Endlessly.

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><p><strong>• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •<strong>

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**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	13. Chapter 13 (Annabeth)

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| ANNABETH #13 |●**

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><p>I was prepared for most things, and I tried to prepare myself for Percy's response to the treatment.<p>

But I could never have been prepared for this.

After Big Nose had pulled the trigger and gave him the shot, Percy started twitching. I was relieved; because it was the most movement he had had for the last 2 hours. But my relief immediately plummeted into my shoes when he started shuddering. I rushed forward, collapsing by his bedside. His face, which had been blank and emotionless, was now contorted in to a grimace. I placed my hands on his face, running my fingers over his brow, its texture rolling beneath my finger-tips.

His mouth parted in a silent murmur. I squeezed myself onto the bed space next to him. I slipped my palms beneath his head and I somehow managed to get his head cradled in my lap. The balls beneath his eyelids rolled against the corners. He continued to shudder and occasionally groan. I began to run my fingers soothingly through his hair.

The atmosphere was almost peaceful. I was imagining myself sitting by the lake, with Percy's head resting on my ankles as he snored (and drooled) quietly.

But this was the calm before the storm.

Suddenly, Percy stiffened, back arching as he released a shout. In surprise, I gripped his hair, which caused him to scream more. I hunched my body over his head, as if protecting him from whatever his blown wide eyes were seeing.

His arms started to jerk up and down, almost to the point he hit me. His body was soaked with sweat and my eyes were equally wet. I hated seeing him like this. I thought of how Percy would react in a situation where I was the one lying on the bed, in his lap, screaming words that didn't say anything, but meant AGONY. It would be worse for him, what with his loyalty fault.

But even though I was not Percy, I wanted to take pain from him, to save him.

I clumsily collected his flailing limbs, wrapping him in my straining arms.

Despite his broader shoulders, he crumpled into my arms, face buried in the fabric of my shirt.

I glanced up, glaring at Thomas and Big Nose in misplaced resentment and frustrated helplessness. They looked uncomfortable with our closeness. Thomas shuffled further away from me, averting his eyes, giving us the privacy I needed. Big Nose retreated behind the curtain.

I rocked Percy slowly in my arms. He was far too cold for someone who was sweating and shivering so much.

He started to struggle against my gentle hold, thrashing as he began to scream. A sharp elbow in my stomach forced me to release him.

He tumbled out of my arms, head hitting the bed post with a sickening thud, but Percy hardly took notice, so he continued groping the bed sheets as he shuddered and groaned.

His legs were awkwardly folded beneath his body, so when his legs started kicking, he almost fell of the bed face first.

Too distraught, I didn't move in time before his legs straightened suddenly and connecting with my jaw. I was thrown into the wall, a gasp stuck in my throat. I was foolish to have gotten too close to him, knowing that he would react violently.

I shifted quickly off the bed, not wanting to get another foot in my face.

"Thomas and...!" I shouted, then faltered, reminding me that I needed to ask Big Nose what his name was, "And the Med-Jack!"

Thomas and Big Nose jumped out from around the curtain as if they had been sitting there, waiting for the point that I would get overwhelmed by Percy.

"Hold 'im!" Big Nose ordered as he headed to Percy's bedside.

Thomas hurried to the upper part of the bed where Percy's legs were bouncing on the thin mattress. He opened his hands in an attempt to catch them, but he just got kicked.

After a couple of minutes of struggling (now I understood why monsters don't like those demigods who wiggle), Big Nose and Thomas were sitting on each of his legs and I was sitting on his back, hands latched onto his wrists.

"Now what?" I twisted towards Big Nose. "Do we have to stay like this until he gets better, or do you have straps?"

His forehead scrunched in embarrassment, "Now we have to carry to a bed with straps..."

I groaned. We had to do this all over again? "Then why didn't you put him in bed with straps in the first place?!" I asked, exasperated.

"Hey, look here Greenie, I was shocked by the fact I saw a girl Newbie! So slim it, please!" I wanted to retaliate with a witty remark, but I decided against it. I didn't have to make this whole process more unpleasant.

"Let's do this," I growled. I shifted off Percy's back, increasing the strength of the grip in my hands to hold him down.

His arms were iron beneath my fingers. I wasn't looking forward to seeing those muscles in action right now.

Thomas and Big Nose eased off his legs and gripped his ankles.

"Turn him so he faces up," Big Nose grunted. What? Uhhhhg...

I awkwardly twisted my grip on his wrists and I flipped him over. I heard Percy cry out. Percy was now in a twisted position, with his torso partially facing upwards and his feet still facing the floor. I gave the others a pointed glare, half because I wanted then to turn him over and because I couldn't bear looking at how vulnerable Percy was.

They hurriedly switched legs so that he was stretched between us like a human hammock.

Big Nose started jerking his head to a bed on the other side of the room.

We shuffled towards a different bed as Percy thrashed.

We heaved Percy onto the bed with a great deal of effort and managed to tie him to the bed. Meanwhile he was screeching, thrashing and cursing in a language that only sick people understood.

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><p><strong>• | • | • | • | •<strong>

**•| The struggle is real... |•**

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><p>I guiltily tightened the straps that bound Percy's arms to the frame of the cot.<p>

I leaned to inspect his pale face. The smell of puke, sweat and blood stung my nostrils. I wondered if the smell came from the sheets or from him. His lower lip was bloody and torn. The veins lacing his temples traced lime green lines onto his face. I gently swept his matted black hair off his sweaty forehead.

His mouth released another howl. I back-pedaled as if I were struck. And I was. Struck by how much pain he was enduring. Struck by how helpless I was. Struck by the unfairness of it all. Struck by how the world seemed to conspire against us.

I felt overwhelmed, I felt like I was drowning in problems that I didn't know how to fix. This was just too much. Percy. The Labyrinth. This place. The Grievers. How his pain bounced off the walls and amplified mine... It was just too much!

I staggered away from the cot, leaning against everything I could so I wouldn't fall over. I reached the metal door, my fingers clawing at the handle, escaping from the room.

And what I walked straight into was not the least bit happy.

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><p><strong>• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •<strong>

**• |I think I have a serious medical condition. I have all the symptoms. Hanging sentences, suspense, complaining fans… I have Cliffhanger-itus, or something. Someone tell, me because I ain't no doctor… | •**

**•|Follow, Favourite and Review|•**

**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	14. Chapter 14 (Newt)

**●| I am only updating one chapter because, finally, I can publish a chapter that broke to 1K barrier. But is it deemed worthy of your critical eye (and reviews)? |●**

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| NEWT #14 |●**

**• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •**

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><p>The screams that filled the Glade from the med centre were unexpected. For it was always known of that they were coming, unlike now. A person (usually Clint) would yell, alerting everyone that one of the Gladers had been stung, and no such warning had arrived.<p>

The screams were raw and unfamiliar, as screams usually were. People change when they're in pain. I would know.

I quickened my pace, passing the Homestead toward the forest. What on the shuck-faced love of God was going on? Who was stung? I was bloody certain that I saw Minho earlier inhaling some of Frypan's grease. Had I seen Thomas? I hadn't seen him recently...

No, it couldn't be him, these screams were deeper. Not a bass 'aaahhh', nobody screamed like that, Thomas' screams were shriller.

Who the hell was it then? I hoped it wasn't some shuck-faced idiot who decided he was the best and could survive the bliddy Maze... I had barely stopped myself from killing Thomas when he had done it, even though he had saved both his ass and two VIPs (Very Irritating People).

I sprinted faster in the direction of the mini hospital, and the screams got louder and louder in my ears.

I reached for the handle, ready to wrench it open. But before my hand could touch the handle, the door swung open. I staggered back as it swung past my nose.

Before I could collect my bearings, I was forced back once again, but this time someone slammed into my chest and sent me sprawling onto the ground.

"Aahhh! What the hell man! Look where you're going!" I grunted as I clambered off the dusty ground and patted the brown marks off the knees of my pants.

I lifted my head to stare venomously at the clumsy egghead.

But before my eyes was a girl, about my age, with blood shot eyes and blonde hair twisted in a ratty pony tail.

I once again landed on my butt in the dirt. A GIRL! I stared at her in shock. What the heck was a girl doing in the Glade?! I haven't seen a girl since... damn. I don't even remember. But that made it worse! This was the first girl I've seen in THREE YEARS or something!? [How long was Newt in the Maze?]

I studied her for long enough for it to be rude. Her face was stained with dirt, peach skin painted below her eyes in the wake of her tears that flowed from her grey eyes. Her pupils stood out starkly against the paleness of her eyes, rimmed with spiked eyelashes.

She scowled as she scrubbed her face, glaring at me. "Has your mother never told you it's rude to stare?" she said angrily. I clambered up to my feet, mumbling numbly half earnest apologies.

A scream ripped through the fuzziness, clearing my vision and mind. I drew myself to my full height (which was still shorter than her) and puffed out my chest. "Who the shuck are you?" I demanded.

"Annabeth. And who the Hades are you?" she crossed her arms challengingly.

"Newt. Now, how did you bloody get into the Glade without us dragging your carcass out of the Box, huh?" I resented this curved ball the Creators were chucking at us.

"We were guided here," she replied vaguely.

My eyes widened. Who the hell brought them here? Was it the Creators? Did they lead them here? Was it one of us, because if it was, I was going to wring their scrawny little necks for not telling me first. "Who?" I growled.

She scanned my face calculatingly, "Thomas," she replied simply.

Thomas! That little snob, doing stuff without my permission, I fumed.

I barged past her, bursting into the dull hospital room. The screams resonated through the concrete walls, grating every surface of the hospital, lacing through the air, spiking my eardrums. I winced. This one had some lungs on 'em, I felt sorry for the mother.

I swivelled my head, searching for the noise's origin.

Lying on bed was a boy whose feet rattled the frame of the bed as he fought against the restraints binding him to mattress.

I rushed to his side to get a better look at him. He was completely alien to my eyes, face white under the sprinkle of freckles dotting his face. Tears darkened patches of the rumpled pillow beneath his head.

Nope. Never seen him before.

Another bloody Newbie!

Rage and confusion made my chest clench and my throat tighten. "THOOOOOMAS!" I roared, my voice rising above the wailing. I stormed down the aisle to the curtain that divided the room. I ripped the blue fabric out of my way.

A guy, clad with an army green T-shirt, was holding a conversation with the Med-Jack, Jeff. When I recognised the guy to be Thomas, I charged forward and spun him around, not at all gently.

"What did you do?" I spat. His eyebrows rose in unease, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

"Well..." he began and I gave his a pointed glare, "I met them in the Maze. I was on my usual run, but I ran into them. Annabeth ended up holding me at knife point trying to get answers out of me. That guy causing that ruckus? That guy, Percy, was stung, and they wanted the Cure. So I told them that they had to come here so he could heal without fear of being attacked by Grievers," he stared at me with an expression that was a weird combination of awe, wariness and fear. "And you know how he was stung? He was stung while killing a shucking Griever!" He rasped in an excited whisper, eyes wide with excitement and disbelief.

What? The only dead Griever we ever thought we had seen ended up NOT being dead. So I had every reason not to believe that an anybody could kill Grievers. I didn't even know if you could kill a Griever! Grievers would be snacking on Gladers for centuries to come (that is if the Glade survived that long). I eyed him suspiciously. "Where's the proof?" It was the best question I could come up with, but I needed some evidence that this that was shaking up my world was real, not just some kind of... theory.

He gulped, "Because I saw it, Newt. I saw the Griever. It was VERY dead. It was bleeding this slime that just surrounded it..." his voice was thick with disgust, his face scrunched up.

"How do you know that wasn't just... something that wasn't Griever blood? What if it was Griever... sweat? Mmmmm?" I asked, doubt laced in my voice. That queasy expression on Thomas' face was as real as it got, and if there was one thing I have learned from running this place, it was reading faces. And the look on his face, he wasn't lying.

"Well... They were covered in Griever slime and Annabeth looked pretty armed and Percy was trashed... but they were alive, and they could only be alive if that Griever was dead," Thomas reasoned.

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><p><strong>• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •<strong>

**• | Can I just say, to everyone, that you don't have to suffer with the cliffhangers at the end of this chapter, and many that will come. I told you… Wattpad has the same chapters (from the lack of spell check on their app, it has worse grammer) but it has more of them. Up till chapter 16. And, just a warning, I talk a lot. Ya, ya, ya "nothing has changed" – but I have book recommendations and comments and a lot of blabbering… yeah…| •**

**•|Follow, Favourite and Review|•**

**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	15. Chapter 15 (Annabeth)

**●| This chapter is almost 1000 words… and I thought about double updating… but I decided not to because the next chapter is the real treat. It's over 4000 words... I think, but its a lot , about triple or quadruple what I usually write. Ill give you more info in the after note. |●**

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| ANNABETH#15 |●**

**• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •**

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><p>My back slid down the side of the infirmary building, my shirt riding up so the gritty coldness pressed uncomfortably against my spine. My stomach growled loudly, adding to the heart wrenching noises.<p>

The ear-splitting agony continued to radiate from the open door. I growled in frustration as I scooted toward the doorway to close the door, hoping that it would muffle the sounds of pain coming inside from Percy.

The sound got louder as I neared the opening, blasting my ears with broken glass. I leaned forward, my forearm supporting me as I stretched out my other hand to grab the edge of the door. My fingertips grazed the splintered wood and I managed to gain purchase. I yanked it closer so I could slam it with a satisfying boom.

To my despair, it hardly did anything to protect me from the sounds what laid inside, or rather what came from who laid inside. I dragged my weak body farther away from the building, and I was soon stumbling blindly forward.

My heavy footfalls kicked up dust and my arms were peddling in the air, trying to find something to anchor me to the real world so I wouldn't float away in this sea of this... pain, of this grief, of this worry, of this fear.

My fingers on my left hand connected with the scaly bark of a tree. Both of my hands planted themselves on the wood and I pressed my forehead onto the cool bark. I imagined that this was Thalia's Tree, standing proud on the edge of camp, accessorised by the golden cloth that hung on its branch and curled up with a dragon lazily puffing smoke.

I wrapped my arms around it, clinging on it for dear life as I struggled to control my emotions.

I imagined that Thalia was hugging me back, whispering that everything would be okay after she kicked whoever hurt me in the butt and in other places.

I slumped against it, my arms holding me up as I sobbed, thinking about how I should have protected Percy better and how we shouldn't have gotten into this situation.

There was nothing I could do now, I thought rationally. I had no people I could rely on to give me extra information about the Griever Serum and whether there was any way for me to help Percy. And I had no experience or knowledge; because I knew all the monsters in Greek (and now Roman) mythology and I didn't remember anything about Grievers, the Glade, or any of the strange slang terms they used. So I didn't know what to do, but the best thing I could do is go with the flow and find out as much as I could.

So Percy would just have to recover from this trauma-treatment until I knew what was going on.

The bark scraped my wet cheek as I choked on my breath. Tears streamed down my face. After a while I became aware that I was hugging a tree and that if someone saw me like this, they would think I was some crazy who took the term 'hug a tree' far too seriously.

I turned so I was leaning on my shoulder. Slowly I lowered myself onto the knotted roots that surrounded the base of the tree.

I started knocking the back of my head on the wood as I thought. Information, which was what I needed. But how best to get it? I could just demand for answers, or I could investigate. Although 'investigate' sounded more exciting, I didn't know how much time I had. But if I asked for answers straight up, they might get suspicious and lie to me. And that would waste more time because I would have to investigate AFTER realising that I had been lied to. So I would have to ask around and investigate.

I started analysing the best way to present myself. If I came off as pathetic, they may take advantage of me and dismiss me as a child, although from what I was seeing, it looked like they were all children themselves. Their doctor was a teenager! (I guess that was hypocritical of me, because the Camp's doctor was a teenager). Projecting vulnerability had advantages because by being dismissed, I could work under the radar easier. No, that won't work. I was the only girl these guys had seen in a while, so was going to be watched anyways! And Thomas would have told them about the threatening business I did with him, so I had no choice to come across as strong and as a leader.

So it was settled. I would show myself to be someone who shouldn't be messed with, and we would be fine.

And if I became important enough, they would update me with all the happenings of this place, or they might see me as a threat and lay to me every step of the way...

But anyway, I could always investigate and make some reliable allies.

We would be fine (hopefully...)

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><p><strong>• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •<strong>

**• | Yes. Yes, I did. I made Annabeth hug a tree. We've all hugged weird things, whether it's a book (We do more than hug books), pillows and the weirdest - your brother (such weirdoes from I hear). | •**

**•| And sorry about the filler. This is the last one, for a while anyway. The real action is coming in the next chapter in the form of a -4000+ word chapter from Newt's POV. you want a hint? There will be blood. *smiles evilly* |•**

**•|Follow, Favourite and Review|•**

**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	16. Chapter 16 (Newt)

**●| I stretched out the crossover convo because this is what we (fanpeople) live for. I hate it when they summarise it to "and Percy explained all the quests he'd done" - with NO DETAIL. So I apologise if the dialogue seems stiff and plastic. |●**

**●| Thoooper long chapter! Over 4000! Ready, set, GO! |●**

**•| Also, I'm sorry I didn't update this morning. It was my friend's birthday and (stupidly) he wanted to go hiking for his birthday. And it was above 30 degree Celsius… Then I slept. But now I'm awake and updating.|•**

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| NEWT#16 |●**

**• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •**

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><p>I charged to the closed door and retched it open, only to find it stuck. I glanced back at the two boys standing behind me. Hoping that they didn't notice, I gave a frustrated yank at the door. Still stuck.<p>

Man, this was embarrassing.

A guttural groan erupted from my throat as I wrestled with the door, practically kicking it open.

I stumbled out of the infirmary and began searching for the girl with as much dignity as I could. And I couldn't see her. "Thomas! Where is this Annabeth girl?" I asked, embarrassment softening my sharp tone.

"Looking for me?" a clear voice drifted through the crisp air. I nearly popped a muscle out of place in my neck when I jerked. Annabeth emerged from behind one of the trees. Now if this was a normal situation, I would have made a comment about 'wannabees' and 'stupid' because it looked the person was hiding in order to make a dramatic entrance.

But this was no normal situation.

She strolled towards me with fierce grey eyes. Her face was cleaner than it was the last time, but her features were still rimmed with grime. She smiled pleasantly, "Excluding our hasty meeting just earlier, I believe we have yet to be formally introduced."

I stood there like a clown, with my face having far too many colours and with my eyes big and rounded. I swallowed and contained myself to match her no-nonsense behaviour. "Newt. Just Newt. I'm the leader of the Glade. And you are Annabeth, yeah?"

"Yes, Annabeth Chase. Nice to talk to you without you landing in the dirt," she smiled cheekily.

The smile seemed to break the awkward formality and I found myself relaxing. I was not used to this 'polite conversing' - or whatever they called it. "It was in shock, you're the first girl I've seen around here. This leads me to ask... HOW THE _SHUCK_ DID YOU GET HERE?!"

"Ah, yes that. Well we got into the... Maze because we were being chased by some bad people. We needed to find cover and we fell in a hole and here we are," her hands were moving as she explained. "I'm sure Thomas already told you, we were there for a few days before we encountered a Griever. Percy," she pointed at the abandoned infirmary, "managed to kill it but in the process, he was stung. After that, Thomas came. I was in unknown territory and treated Thomas as a potential enemy. But we ended up dragging Percy here for your treatment," she said calmly, as if this was an everyday occurrence. I felt my respect for her and Percy growing faster with each passing word.

"Where are you from?" I enquired, trying to contain my eagerness and dread. Did she come from Outside for real? Or was it just one of the Creators' shams?

"We live at a youth camp, in America." she said. I had this itching feeling that she wasn't telling us everything, but I didn't push her.

"So..." now for the million dollar question (but I have billion dollar ones), "Did you meet the Creators?"

"The Creators? I remember Thomas saying something about them, so I assume they are the, for the lack of a better word, the creators of the Glade," she said, her colourless eyebrows lifted.

"Well yeah, but they also created the Maze and everything shucking thing here and wiped the memory of all the poor sods that live here," I said bitterly.

She looked confused, "What? Daedalus created the Labyrinth and then it built itself. So you can't refer to a monument -that's essentially what this is- with a collective noun such as the Creator_S_."

I had a sudden urge to knock her on the forehead for speaking so... plainly and blasphemously. It contradicted all the information we had collected over the years. "So you're saying that we are living in a giant frikking living maze that controls us? And what about the Bugs? Does the Maze need to see us through flying spy cameras so it could just WATCH us despite the fact that it surrounds us this very moment? Does it have to supply us with free supplies? Why would a monument care those we live or not?" I started to rant, my voice rising in volume and my gestures becoming wilder. I threw questions at her like a tennis ball machine gun.

I was halted by her abrupt question, "Bugs? Describe these Bugs to me, please," she said, looking troubled.

I was little annoyed about not getting answers from her, but for some reason, I thought it best to give her as much information as I could so that she could grind it through the gears I could see turning in her brain. "They have these bogus night vision eyes and metallic wings that allow it to fly and a small logo printed on it, _WICKED_. So there's your proof, lady, as I said earlier, that there is a group of psychos, whom we call the Creators, who are controlling this shuck place and throwing Greenbeans at us!"

She stood there silently, with an expression that made me imagine her striking the same pose as that ancient Thinker statue. I rocked on my heels, not wanting to interrupt her processing time. I glanced at Thomas and Jeff who had quietly shuffled out of the infirmary and who were both staring at Annabeth with the same rapt attention. Another screech from Percy graced us with its presence.

I should be thinking too! I chastised myself. Letting others doing the thinking! What was I thinking? Oh, yeah... _NOTHING._

I turn my attention back to Annabeth, trying to get my mind into the thinking frenzy. But it turned out I didn't need to because Annabeth had a 'Eureka!' expression on her face.

"I don't ever recall reading or hearing, excluding now, anything about the Bugs. So that leads to a theory. But first I must explain to you something to you," her eyes darted to the 2-man audience. She clearly wanted to talk about something pretty serious, something only the leader could hear. I considered the risks, because this girl and that boy (whom I hadn't forgotten about because he was screaming like a howler monkey) were strangers. From what I'd heard from Thomas, she could karate chop my head off. She seemed to pick up on my thoughts because she said, "Just outside earshot. They can still keep an eye on us in case I try to kill you, which I can reassure you, won't happen. I just want a word with you."

I gave a weak nod and we marched 6 meters into the grove (I'm EXHAUSTED!) and stopped by a broad stump anchored into the soil. I, being the gentleman I was, sat on it without offering it to Annabeth, not that she complained.

She crouched down on her haunches, and for a second, I thought she would pounce on me and rip my arms off with her teeth, but she looked calm and patient.

"Okay, Newt, have you ever heard about Greek Mythology?" she was staring at me intently.

"You mean those dusty shucks that came with psycho superheroes? Like... what's his name? Zuza? Hermit?" I scoffed in annoyance.

She smiled, looking like she wanted to laugh. "Zeus and Hermes. They were GODS, not superheroes, at least most of the time. And those 'dusty shucks' were called the Greeks. Now I know you're probably not going to believe me, so I beg of you, please don't jump up and start waving your arms screaming _'idiot shuck girl'_," the phase sounded plastic coming out of her mouth, "or anything like that. I want you to hear me out."

Wasps raged angrily in my stomach as I wondered what she could tell me that would induce me to start screaming insults -even though we both knew what happened to Thomas when he unintentionally insulted her. "Okay. Go on, before I skip the explaining part and get straight to _'you idiot shuck girl'_ part?" the joke failed to break the suspense.

"Well the Greek gods? They are real," my jaw dropped. It took me a few seconds to hear the words, much less comprehend them. She wanted to talk about the thousand year old nonsense? And she was saying that they were real? This was a joke, I thought. We were supposed to be talking about a serious and REAL situation, not some old peoples' deluded fairy tales.

I cleared my throat, interrupting her, my mouth opened and I was about to protest but she silenced me with a sharp movement of her hand. "As I was saying, the Greek gods are real and they have children with humans called demigods. That's what Percy and I are. And I can prove it," she reached for her belt and pulled out a bronze dagger.

I scrambled away from her, desperately searching for Thomas and Jeff, but they were nowhere to be found. _Where the shuck were they?_ I panicked. _They were supposed to be here as my backup?_ I darkly realised they must have gone back inside. This must be Thomas' doing, I thought. He and Annabeth must have planned this.

I opened my mouth to shout for help, but a hand clamped over the bottom half of my face.

I turned my wide eyes to Annabeth's pleading face. "Please, PLEASE, just listen. Do you want me to swear on the river of Styx that I am not lying? Do you know what it means to swear on the river of Styx? It's a promise that if broken, will result in being cursed. Surely Thomas told you about his promise?" He had, saying there was lightning and everything. I nodded.

"Well then. I, Annabeth Chase, swear that I am telling the truth to Newt…," she hesitated at the place where she should have said my surname, "about the Greek gods being real and Percy and I being demigods," she recited the pledge with serious eyes reaching in, towards my soul.

Shadows disappeared as a blast of light flashed with a boom from above.

Annabeth took a step back and smiled smugly as if to say _'told you so!_' I clambered up to sit properly on the stump.

"That doesn't prove anything! That's just the Creators messing with us!" I said in denial.

She sighed and lifted the knife, which was still in her hand. "This is Celestial Bronze. It's designed so it only can harm people with divine blood and monsters. So it can't harm mortals," she said pertly, before slicing open her palm.

I gave a cry of horror and raced to help her. "You slithead! Are you, like, shucking suicidal or something? Jeeeeeffffff!" I said, my voice rising.

"No it's fine, I meant to do that," she expertly ripped a piece of fabric from her tattered shirt and quickly bound her wound. "That will do for now. Now you," before I could comprehend what was happening, she slashed at my hand I had offered when she hurt herself.

I yelped a very unmanly yelp, and leaped away from her. But not before the knife grazed my palm. A tingling sensation shot up from my fingertips to the hairs on my sculp. I cradled it protectively as I turned and stumbled over gnarled roots as I tried to escape.

Like a whip, her hand wrapped around my arm and I was yanked back. I watched her with fearful eyes, my arms trying to wrench themselves from her nails digging into my skin. She rolled eyes and said, "Did I hurt you? Can you check, would you? I said it would never be able to hurt a mortal, and you are mortal. Look at your hand." I shot a glare at her, wishing that looks could burn her hand off and free me. Seeing that I was resisting her request, she made it an order, "Look at your hand. Now."

I, not wanting to fall victim again to the knife, slowly relaxed my arm that cradled my wounded hand. I slowly opened my right hand, already imagining the line of split flesh, my hand coated in red blood, and morbidly, maggots of lights worming in and under my skin.

But to my surprise, it was fine. The palm, roughened from working in the Glade, was stinging a bit, but it was fine.

I traced the life line of my palm in fascination. I looked at Annabeth in awe. "Wha- HOW?" I managed to get out.

She let me go with a smug smirk and crossed her arms as if to say _'I told you so!_' (again)

"If you were to remember from what I said earlier, you're mortal, so Celestial Bronze can't hurt you, even if I ran a sword through your chest. It might tickle, but you'd be unharmed. And before you start poking holes into my story, I'll show you that I didn't switch daggers," She started digging out knives of multiple lengths, one of them so long; it could be considered a sword. I nervously examined all the six weapons she brought out. It was a wonder that she could fit all of this into such skimpy shorts. There was a white one, one that was a dusty gold, as well as glowing bronze ones. There were all kinds of shapes, serrated edges, curved blades, leather handles and cruel spikes. I imagined her spinning and hacking open opponents with gritted teeth, and then I imagined her driving one of those knives into my Adam's apple.

I shook my head, emptying my head of such thoughts. "See? Those are no other weapons I might have swapped with," she said as she spun slowly while patting herself down to show that she had no other weapons stashed somewhere. "And the knife is as sharp as it ever will be," she said proudly, picking up a branch from the ground.

She took the bronze dagger she had cut me with and sliced the branch in half, rapidly followed by her halving that half with the other edge.

The realisation that she was telling the truth about the Greek gods being real and about them being demigods finally settled uncomfortably in my mind. Did this mean that everything around me had some kind of other explanation of origin, another reason for existing? I slid down ungracefully onto the ground and stared blankly at my hands.

Mythology was real.

Mythology was SHUCKING _REAL_!

But then it couldn't be called mythology, because the word myth implied that it was made up.

What she just told me was reality.

I sat silently while I numbly processed the new information in my mind, trying to sort through my chaotic thoughts. I closed my eyes, trying to realign everything I thought I knew and settle into this more complex world. I felt the grainy texture of the wood beneath me. _'Change isn't going to kill you, Newt,'_ I chanted to myself, _'Knowledge is better than ignorance'._

When I opened my eyes, Annabeth was leaning against a proud pine tree, staring at me expectantly.

I cleared my thoughts by focusing on her. "Any more bombs of mind-boggling information you want to share with me, huh?" I said, with a tinge of annoyance in my voice.

"Oh, I actually don't have much to tell you beside what I know about the Labyrinth, or as you call it, the Maze. It was created by a demigod called Daedalus, who was a son of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and a couple of other things, because he was trying to contain a monster called the Minotaur," she whispered as if the monster would burst through the tree and eat her. "He was thought to have died a few centuries ago, but Percy and I discovered he actually had been escaping death by creating new bodies for him to live in." It was official. Even if Creators didn't build the Maze, the person who did, was equally sick. "And he connected his life-force to the Labyrinth, so when he died, the whole thing collapsed. This is weird because this place is still in order. But buildings live longer than people, so it survives in some places. A witch called Pasiphae probably helped it out, so it's back, alive, and it's only going to grow from now on. I had assumed the Labyrinth controls itself, but when you mentioned the Bugs... Nobody but Daedalus and Pasiphae, who are both dead, can fathom the workings of the Labyrinth, but I think somebody has managed to make the Glade permanent and now is watching their... assets. Why I don't know... do people mysteriously go missing?" Her face was scrunched up in an expression of concentration.

"The only people who disappear into the Maze are either Runners or the banished or a rare suicidal shuck. And we all know what happens to them..." My eyes flittered in the direction of the cement hospital.

Her eyes darkened as she nodded. "I thought maybe they were selling mortals to monsters. But that wouldn't happen because mortals don't taste as great as demigods, from what I have unfortunately heard." Her mouth started to alternate between scraping her bottom lip with her white teeth and sucking her top lip.

"Can we take a break from talking about this? It's making my head hurt like klunk!" I said at I started to massage the centre of my forehead, trying to soothe out the sharp pain that was starting to ache behind my eyes.

She sighed before she slumped with her back against the tree. "So why don't you talk about your world? My world's a pain in the... everywhere," she said with a dry chuckle.

"What do you want to know?" I asked, too exhausted to be happy by the change in topic.

"Everything? It's clear I'm not going anywhere until Percy gets better, so tell me the basics. Like... what do you guys eat here, how long have you been here, what do you do most of the time? I'm not asking you dig deep or anything," she said watching me with a coaxing expression on her face.

"We eat what Frypan makes at the Homestead. His food is delicious but greasy as klunk. The Homestead is where we all sleep. There are jobs for everyone, and all those jobs have heads, Keepers. There's Sloppers, who are like the janitors; the Builders; the Runners; the Med-Jacks; Slicers, who are butchers; Track-hoes, who are kind of the farmers; Cooks, that one's pretty self-explanatory; Baggers, who are the jailers. Yes, we have jailers, not that people want to do anything wrong. About two months ago, we banished someone and wrong-doers are pretty easy to catch because there are only about forty boys here."

Annabeth nodded thoughtfully and not without a healthy bit of respect in her voice, murmured "Sound pretty organised."

They sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes as they both processed what they had leant. Then Annabeth mused, "Are you going to tell them about the Greek mythology? You have to tell them something. But you need to consider that Percy can't easily go undercover, screaming or not, because he's kind of forgetful and dense."

My regard for the girl increased, because she was making it clear that she was giving me the scope to make the decision and therefore, she acknowledged my role as the leader within the Glade. I nodded. "I don't think it would be a good idea to tell them. First allow them to get used to you, then we can tell them then." She nodded and continued to lose herself in her thoughts.

Noises drifted through our tree-fortified area.

I twisted around on my improvised seat to see a group of boys collecting outside the Med-Jack hospital. I turned to Annabeth, flapping my hand to indicate that I wanted her to hide behind a tree so the others didn't see her. "Follow us, but for the sweet love of Jesus, don't let yourself be seen. We're going to a Gathering, so only come in when I call you. You'll know it's me when you hear me."

When she melted into the scenery, I marched toward the crowd trying to look like I just came from a stroll around the forest.

Heads started turning towards me and I noticed that they were all Keepers - just as well, didn't want the others to know about the two newcomers just yet.

I puffed out my chest and pulled back my shoulders in attempt to make myself look more authoritive (and taller). I stepped onto one of the remnants of a tree, so I was towering over everyone (I'm tall!) "Attention, you shucks!" Now all the attention was on me, "I want to call an emergency Gathering! Right now!" I shouted before I hopped off the log. Whispers of confusion and fear increased in volume.

I started walking briskly to that area that was set aside for Gatherings **[I checked the Maze Runner Wiki, and I couldn't find where the Gatherings were, so I'll just be vague].** The others were forced to stop talking as they scampered to keep pace.

We all reached the Gathering, filing into the dark room which housed a battered oval table with wooden chairs tucked in neatly so that their backs pressed into the table protectively.

In nervous silence, everyone sat down in their respective seats, with the scraping of the chairs on the floor sounding cruel to the ears.

"Now what the shuck is going on?" Winsten croaked, annoyance making his acne crusted face screw up.

"You all heard those screams, and that's who we're here to talk about."

"What makes him so special? Is it another stupid ignorant _Thomas?"_ Gally spat out Thomas' name like it was garbage in his mouth. He was referring to the time when Thomas sneaked into the Maze to rescue Minho and Alby.

"No, these aren't people we know. Thomas ran into them while he was out in the Maze..." I paused, waiting for the cacophony of confusion and, man, did it come in full force. Gally and Winsten were screaming barely comprehensible sentences; there was a lot of profanity peppering their opinions.

_"Guys!"_ I screamed on the top of my lungs, and the noise quietened.

"What the hell, man! These are Greenies who got lost in the Maze? They're stupid; leave them in there so they can rot with their shank Grievers! They don't follow the rules, so throw them back! They want to be in the Maze so bad! So leave them there!" screamed Gally.

A roar of approval rose in the room, followed by fists banging on the table.

I was getting very annoyed so I used my left foot and hoisted myself onto my chair at the head of the table. "Bloody slim it! Or I'm going to get you Bagged!" I yelled over the chaos.

They heard me, but did they listen? No.

So I opted to make them pay attention by shocking them.

"It was a girl! It was a boy and a girl who had never set foot in the Glade until Thomas brought them! Are you listening now, you bloody shucks?!" Everyone was shocked into frozen silence.

I slumped down into my chair with a loud bang (which kind of hurt) and leaned forward and asked, "Do you want to meet her?"

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><p><strong>• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •<strong>

**• | This chapter was long, not because I enjoy writing in Newt POV (I kinda did) because this is the first chapter I write with a plan and schedule to follow. Yes, I made a chapter schedule (C16 - A meets N; A tells N 'bout mythology; N believe; crowd gather around infirmary; go to Gathering; frustrate my faithful readers with a cliffhanger :D) | •**

**•| But don't you get used to these long chapters, you brats (I you)! I forbid it! |•**

**•|Follow, Favourite and Review|•**

**•| Jamie Edge |•**


	17. Chapter 17 (Annabeth)

**● | This chapter... has a swear word. Just saying, not that it's going to stop you reading it (right?). | ●**

**● |Can I just quickly confess that I've dwelled in another fandom? I've become a fangirl of something else? Something like... a cartoon show? For example... Danny Phantom? Don't look at me funny! I'm "young at heart"-you guys would know! Because, technically, PJO is a... *clears throat awkwardly* It's awesome, and if you don't agree, I'll rip your face off *smiles brightly* | ●**

**•|A Guest asked question and because I can't PM her/him, I have to answer the question here: It's neither PJO crossing over into MR, or visa versa. The worlds are melded into each other. You'll see as we go along…|•**

**●| DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAZE RUNNER AND/OR PERCY JACKSON |●**

**●| ANNABETH #18 |●**

**• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •**

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><p>I was crouched behind one of the jagged rocks that bordered the Maze, watching the group from a distance.<p>

Through the sparse trees, I saw a figure charging ahead of the group, the boys following behind him like a pack of scared school kids.

The dirt shifted beneath my fingers as I crawled forward like some kind of cat. I watched them through the stripe-like trees. They entered a metal box that looked like it was once one of those carts that trains pulled.

The air was cold on my cheeks as darkness descended. As I inched forward, I heard the cackle of leaves that would have put my nerves on edge had I not known that nobody could hear. Because all I could hear was the rising volume of voices in the metal box.

I continued to steal nearer to the building, crouching so low that my stomach was pressed against my slowly pumping thighs.

My breaths were quickened by the adrenaline that rushed through me. My arms were beside me, fingers outstretched for balance. I felt the ribbons of air stir around my hypersensitive skin.

I was in no time, with my steady advance, at the edge of the forest, at the edge of my cover. I assessed the area around the Map Room - that's what the sign said above the door - for hiding places closer to the building.

The sun was low, so shadows were long, but they weren't going to be much use because the darkness provided more shade than deep nooks for hiding.

But the darkness was thicker in the trees, so I was behind a tree, with my stomach pressed against the trunk, my hands spread against the bark while I peered at my surroundings through my perennial vision.

The voices rose with rude noises and swear words (at least I assumed they were, I was still unfamiliar to the slang here). They rang out, coming out tinny and muffled, with the boys trying to out-shout each other. I closed my eyes, picturing a room with a ping pong table in the centre with people leaning against its surface, threatening to throw things and causing the table to flip.

I, slightly frustrated, pictured nameless boys with ugly expressions at the one side of the ping pong table, with a scowling Newt at the other end, trying to overwhelm the others with his own voice.

The noise was cut down to a whimper, and the silence chased away all the violence, replacing it with a more dangerous tension.

A loud clang rattled from the Map Room, followed by scuffling feet. A deep voice, sounding more mature and controlled than I remembered it, called, drawing out the vowels more than necessary, _"AAAAANNAAABEEEEETH!"_

I peeked out from behind the tree, seeing a Newt whose back was turned away from the confused and sceptical boys who clambered out to follow him.

I quickly patted down my hair and smoothed out my torn clothing and adjusted my make-shift bandage (I should get that injury looked at), trying to made my movements as minimal as possible. I relaxed my face, making myself look calm and presentable.

I took a deep breath and strode out of the forest toward the box, towards Newt who stood with a stern expression on his face, surrounded by gaping boys.

They watched in silence as I exited the shadows and came within a metre of Newt. I scanned the crowd, nonchalantly waiting for them to get over the fact I was a girl and everything weird about me.

After a tension-filled minute of silence, a boy with a sour expression came forward and turned to Newt, completely ignoring me. "So this is the Newbie girl?" His eyes scrawled over me distastefully. "Not much to look at, huh? Why didn't the Creators send a prettier slut?" **["Mommy, Jamie said (wrote) a bad word!" - "Shut it, kid!" *throws pencil*]**

I glared at him, enraged. My muscles were coiled with restraint as I imagined sticking a knife in his gut. Judging by the way everyone acted around him, I would be doing them all a favour. I thought that maybe by punching him, I would be proving that I could defend myself and show that I meant business. But I didn't want to make them like seriously fear me, so I had to do this right.

"_What_ did you just call me?" I seethed, my voice spiked with hostility.

Newt raised a warning hand in front of him and whispered warningly, "_Don't,_ Gally." Gally ignored him.

"Oh, you didn't hear me? See, she's not only ugly, but she's deaf too," he said smugly, causing the boys around him to laugh uneasily. I was slightly disappointed that he couldn't come with a better comeback - but, oh well.

"I am only going to say this once: you do not want me as an enemy. This is a warning for everyone here. Don't piss me off," I declared loudly, arms crossed.

"Oh, please. You, threatening me? Like you could hurt a fly, Princess," he spat. "You are ugly, deaf, weak and clearly only good for _one thing_ for us boys."

The deal was sealed.

I fisted my right hand, trying not to put pressure on my injured left palm. I lunged, lightning fast, slamming a viscously powerful punch to his jaw, trying not to knock him out, because that wasn't necessary.

He practically flew to the ground, a yell yipping out of his blooding lips. There were collective exclamations of surprise, all eyes darting between me and the fallen Gally. He was lying on his back, his eyes dazed. Blood stained his bottom lip, and his clothes were coated yellow brown from the dusty ground.

"Now, any objections?" Shocked silence. "Shall we carry on with the meeting?" I asked, sounding slightly angry.

Without waiting for an answer, I strutted to and through the rusty door. Inside was dark and gloomy, with a mahogany table in the centre and papers scatted on the walls. It looked like a study, making me think vaguely of home. I stepped away from the door, trying not to look awkward and clueless as where I was supposed to sit.

Boys shuffled in, and they sat heavily in their chairs.

Newt came in last, following the guy I punched, who was pinching his nose, and pointed to a small sad chair in the corner, isolated from the main table.

I winced, walked to the chair and dragged it as close to the table as I dared without it being intrusive, for the chair appeared to be for perpetrators, the excluded, persons dragged in here to face judgements of the council. And I was kind of the perpetrator, for punching Gally and for being a girl and for being a newbie.

It was deathly silent as I lowered myself on the chair with a loud creek. The noise my chair made was drowned out by a guttural sound made by Newt clearing his throat and the sputtering scraping of his chair against the grey floor.

"This is Annabeth, and she didn't come from the Box," Newt announced awkwardly, unsure of how to avoid the impending ruckus and expel the electric tension.

Eyes moved eerily to Newt, and they stayed there for a few ghastly silent seconds, until the screech of Gally's chair filled the room as he aggressively got up.

His mouth was clamped over his face, trying to stop the steady flow of blood gushing out of his nose, hell-fire eyes burning resentfully. "Cut the klunk, Newt. We all know that the Creators chucked her in here to mess with our heads. So kick her the klunk out! It's obvious that she's dangerous; she punched me for _no shucking reason!_ They sent her here to destroy us, from the inside out! She's a spy! Kick her out before she can do any more damage!" he roared, pointing a bloody finger at me accusingly.

Bedlam exploded as more voices joined in angrily, accusing hands waved wildly and threats were thrown across the table and rattled the room. Feet stomped and fist banged against wood and sounds of metal being struck echoed above the chaos. The noise seeped in my bones as I was jostled repeatedly by jabbing fingers.

Although I tried to remain calm, I was getting increasingly annoyed. Newt seemed to be in the same situation but he was shouting rather ineffectively.

I sighed. Did I have to do everything myself?

I hoisted myself onto my chair, an action that didn't do much due to the fact that the other people trying to do the same to get higher than the rest so they could argue more effectively. I leaped onto the table, my loud landing catching the attention of some of the less involved.

"_SILENCE!_ SIT DOWN AND LISTEN UP!" I bellowed, the air leaving my lungs in a long strained roar.

My voice murdered every rebellious argument and threat, leaving the room abruptly silent.

Jaws dropped to the floor as they watched me stride on the table to its head, so I could stand near Newt.

"Now, since you won't listen to Newt, listen to me! Percy and I don't know how the hell we got into the Maze, okay?" I didn't say it like a question. My face relaxed as I began to give them the closest thing to the truth. "All I remember was running and then... darkness. We were stuck in the maze for days, perhaps a week. We found weapons, we didn't know where they came from, but we used them to survive. Just more than an hour ago, we were attacked by a Griever. We managed to kill it, but... Percy was stung. Almost immediately afterwards, we heard footsteps and I thought it was some kind of monster. It turned out to be Thomas. I threatened him a bit because I didn't know whether he was friend or foe. But he agreed to help me bring Percy here so he could get medical attention." **[Uhg, is it just me who's gotten sick of this explaining thing? But I do it for you. Fanpeople live for details *grits teeth*]**

I jumped down from the table and collapsed into the chair a metre away from Newt, feeling deflated but glaring at them.

They all sat back in their chairs, spines straight, and hands clenching, like they were too scared to object to the strangeness of my tale. Silence reigned for seconds, but it felt like hours.

I stayed seated too, trying not to shift uncomfortably in the too hard chair of the accused. I thought of all those things I could be accused of: being a horrible girlfriend and leaving Percy suffering in an unfamiliar place, attacking a mortal and punching Gally (he doesn't count as a mortal). I pondered morbidly on all the things I did to land me in this chair, with these weird mortals (I never thought I'd think of mortals as weird after all I had seen).

Newt stood up awkwardly, bending his knees in an attempt to push the chair back without making a noise. He gutturally cleared his throat while scratching his neck. "Annabeth is going to stay here until further notice. She will abide by all the rules of the Glade. She will become a part of this community, just like every Greenbean would," he said hoarsely, words drifting away.

A chair clattered on the floor. Heads snapped towards the guy. His fists were clenched by his hips, his face pink in comparison to the blood that streaked it. "If the leader says it, so it shall be," he sneered mockingly. "If she's such a Glader, then she is no exception to the Rules. You can never, ever, hurt a shucking Glader. Do you see my face? She punched me! I'm bleeding! She hurt me, despite being a _'Glader'_. So she must suffer the consequences like every Glader should." He had a self-satisfied look of his face, sickening it was. His mouth was bent, his eyes sparkled maniacally, a crooked finger aimed at me, like he was planning my downfall.

Nods started to spread slowly around the table, at the same pace that dread wrapped itself around my bones.

Gally's grin grew, as he said, "She goes to the Slammer," with such finalised tone that I believed that that was my fate.

I may be an Athena girl, but I can't fight fate. But I can do a bit of twisting.

"You insulted me, I was provoked! Don't deny it, every single person in this room was a witness," I paused, and started to talk to the rest of the room. "You all heard what he called me! A slut, deaf, weak. I did warn him to stop, but when he didn't, I was forced to shut him up. I don't deny punching Gally. Put me in the Slammer. I will abide by the Glade's rules. But don't forget that he deserves it too," I gave Gally a pointed look. He looked dismayed as his revenge was turned back on him. He returned my gaze with a glare that made the ends of his eyebrows higher than the thicker end, which made him look more demonic.

Murmurs of agreement swept through the cramped room. Newt drew himself up, looking authoritative. "All in favour of Annabeth going to the Slammer for her actions against a fellow Glader raise your hand," he asked. Those who were brave enough to raise their hands were, sadly, in the majority. Those who didn't sat nervously, eyes darting between the shared glares between Gally and I.

"All those in favour of Gally going to the Slammer for the unkind words spoken to Annabeth, raise your hand." To my satisfaction, most of the hands went up, making me smile smugly until I realised that might mean we could go in together. There weren't many here, so the jail (it was so obvious that the Slammer was some kind of jail) had to be small. Perhaps only one room, for I knew for sure that it was a boys-only place. So I would have to be in the same room for days, weeks. Maybe even forever if I murdered Gally.

I internally groaned, frustration bubbling up, making my face hot.

"Because they have violated Rule Two, they have to be sentenced to... a half a day in the Slammer." **[Teresa was pushed in there for a day for destroying their world as they know it, so she only got ONE DAY punishment. Correct me if I'm wrong, because if so, I'll give them a longer sentence. Correct me *evil smile*]**

A half a day?! Here I was preparing myself for one whole week of Gally-time. Relief coursed through my veins, making me relax in my chair. Thank Zeus! _Thank gods, thank gods, thank gods. _I chanted in my head, giddy for such a light punishment.

But I was still an ADHD kid who got annoyed very quickly.

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><p><strong>• | • | • | • | • | • | • | •<strong>

**• | I think I got Bad Ass Annabeth more in character (never noticed that despite there being a OOC, there's no IC). Or am I just becoming self-absorbed or something? | •**

**•| And this Gally going to jail was spontaneous, so I have disobeyed my plan (*cowers in fear*). So from now on I am clueless. |•**

**•|Follow, Favourite and Review|•**

**•| Jamie Edge |•**


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